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Your Voice from the Frontline
STORY X STORY PLACEHOLDER FOR ROUNDPOINT
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Proud with no pride of the "me" I choose to befrom Eman Mohammed, The Gaza StripSeptember 18th, 2008Being raised in a war zone like the Gaza Strip was supposed to do one of two things: make me either shattered, with no hopes but to survive till the next day, or a girl with thick skin and dreams to live for. I turned out to be a combination of conflicting ingredients. In an Islamic society women have their own rights till ignoramus people say otherwise. With no rules controlling what happens in Gaza, I expected anything.
Being a photojournalist was the dream I held on to knowing it might never come true. Photography, I thought, was the only voice which can be heard in a war situation. It's like a superhero who can tell the truth no matter what, saying so many words with one shot only. I fell in love with photography as soon as I had my first "point & shoot" camera. Still, learning it at university was out of the question; it would astound people when they heard it, especially from a girl.
A female photojournalist? As soon as I say the word I become that freak that people, especially male photojournalists, don't want to deal with. ZERO would be the number of friends who thought I could do it at first, but my Mum's support made it look much easier. I didn't want to be an outlaw girl. I respected some of the local traditions, but I knew I'd have to break some others to achieve my goals.
Going to invasions, airstrikes, violent demonstrations, and hot zones seemed like the only way to prove to everyone that I can handle it, but I could never go there without getting verbally offended or harassed. Over time I was unofficially trained by several photojournalists, convincing them it’s just a hobby, not a lifetime career. I worked for agencies for free just to have my pix published. Many days I end up with bruises, crying myself to sleep, recalling my colleagues’ words about how I'll be treated as a guy for having a guy's job.
Then I read this phrase: “Winners are always part of the answer. Losers are always part of the problem." I had the problem, and I didn't know the answer. I had to figure it out, if not for others then for myself.
Sarcastically life smiled at me at a funeral where no male photographers were allowed. No one took pix but me. Being a "she" turned out to be a blessing and not a curse. Nothing felt as great as the times I've seen my pix published, with my name underneath showing everyone I did it. So here I am - almost there but not exactly, happy with the me I turned out to be, believing that some rules are made to be broken, having my own fears and doubts, but so sure about my Identity. And that makes it all worthwhile.
Proud with no pride of the "me" I choose to befrom Eman Mohammed, The Gaza StripSeptember 18th, 2008Being raised in a war zone like the Gaza Strip was supposed to do one of two things: make me either shattered, with no hopes but to survive till the next day, or a girl with thick skin and dreams to live for. I turned out to be a combination of conflicting ingredients. In an Islamic society women have their own rights till ignoramus people say otherwise. With no rules controlling what happens in Gaza, I expected anything.Being a photojournalist was the dream I held on to knowing it might never come true. Photography, I thought, was the only voice which can be heard in a war situation. It's like a superhero who can tell the truth no matter what, saying so many words with one shot only. I fell in love with photography as soon as I had my first "point & shoot" camera. Still, learning it at university was out of the question; it would astound people when they heard it, especially from a girl.
A female photojournalist? As soon as I say the word I become that freak that people, especially male photojournalists, don't want to deal with. ZERO would be the number of friends who thought I could do it at first, but my Mum's support made it look much easier. I didn't want to be an outlaw girl. I respected some of the local traditions, but I knew I'd have to break some others to achieve my goals.
Going to invasions, airstrikes, violent demonstrations, and hot zones seemed like the only way to prove to everyone that I can handle it, but I could never go there without getting verbally offended or harassed. Over time I was unofficially trained by several photojournalists, convincing them it’s just a hobby, not a lifetime career. I worked for agencies for free just to have my pix published. Many days I end up with bruises, crying myself to sleep, recalling my colleagues’ words about how I'll be treated as a guy for having a guy's job.
Then I read this phrase: “Winners are always part of the answer. Losers are always part of the problem." I had the problem, and I didn't know the answer. I had to figure it out, if not for others then for myself.
Sarcastically life smiled at me at a funeral where no male photographers were allowed. No one took pix but me. Being a "she" turned out to be a blessing and not a curse. Nothing felt as great as the times I've seen my pix published, with my name underneath showing everyone I did it. So here I am - almost there but not exactly, happy with the me I turned out to be, believing that some rules are made to be broken, having my own fears and doubts, but so sure about my Identity. And that makes it all worthwhile.